“Did you know that you’re my most prized person? I love you all the time. When you make me cards, I love you. When you help with dinner, I love you. When I want to take you by the shoulders and yell, I love you. When you won’t drink this bloody apple juice you insisted on having, I bloody love you.”
“Yes Mum.” Slurp.
This wee body turned up fresh about the time I put up my last post. We are transforming together, even thought we are moving towards opposite ends of the spectrum.
One month down. Half the time she is insatiable in her crazy kitten-ness, the other fifty percent she is a smoochy, purring part of the crew.
Friday’s bonk on the head, resulting in scary predictions from the vet made our little unit realize how integral a part of our family, she had become in such a short time. Luckily she bounced back from head trauma about as quickly as she learned what food packaging sounded like.
Here’s to many more lazy Sunday mornings in bed.
Today’s activity was swimming sports. My oft’ repeated response to her invitation for any school activity is ‘I’m sorry, I have work. I wish I could, but you can tell me all about it when you get home.’
Today, I made it. She hollered at me from across the playground, like she had been on lookout duty since dawn. She showed me around, introducing me to her new friends. I was proudly told that her swimming heat was named the ‘Dolphins’ and unlike killer whales, dolphins don’t eat people. We sat in the shade together and waited for her heats to begin.
While she was waiting to get in the pool, she made frequent eye contact. Smiled, waved. When she entered the water, with a splash better suited to a jetty bombing contest, I was the first person she scouted around for. Waiting for the ‘ready, set, go!’she was aware I was there. At the end of each race, she would turn around and grin.
After the swimming was over, with her togs wrapped up in her damp towel, she came to find me. Could I please stay with her for lunch? Her friends wanted to sit with me.
She chatted about everything, my work, how I am letting her take horse riding lessons, my travel dreams, and how beautiful I was. Me, the grumpy one who is never not rushing in the mornings, and was unnecessarily cross at her for leaving her lunchbox on the table after we had locked the front door. She was showing me off. She is proud of me.
This means more to me than anything else ever could.
I ache for summer, for endless daylight and impromptu after work adventures. Salt in the hair by day and a sweating glass by night. Aimless missions with no end goal but happiness.
Oxymorons make perfect sense when the sun is out and burning, and the tide is high enough to give you frostbite.
To my person. The one who is always right there, even from 2625.84 km away.
You truly are one of the most beautiful, inspirational, witty, fabulous and genuine people I know. You have grown as a person in this past few years in ways that make me proud to stand along side you, and grateful to have you there as a sounding board. You are the one I can go to for a totally honest, unbiased opinion on anything – “Yes, your ass is the size of Texas in that, try this though, you will look gorgeous.” “Yes, you’re being a psychotic bitch, but it’s totally justified/take some deep breaths and calm the fuck down.”
We have code words from a decade ago that we can whip out and drop into the conversation and are still relevant today. Ping. We can have hysterical, can’t breath giggle attacks about the penis-vagina-fart-bottom-shart-body talk, just like 13 years old versions of ourselves. We can discuss the meaning of life from the greatest depths of our psyche. We can cry about failed attempts. We can get angry on behalf. We can tell each other our honest opinion, and then support each other even if we don’t agree with the outcome.
Through seventeen years of thick and thin, highs and lows, tears and laughter, you and I collide. This is real. I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Love you ❤
I’m not so great at feigning excitement for the homework and reading “Sam I Am” stories. We get it done.
I want to foster a wonder, pique an interest and encourage wanderlust for every corner of the globe.
Sometimes she plays Minecraft and I watch Orange Is The New Black, other times we watch how anthropologists reconstructed King Tut’s face from archaeological information supplied from wooden sculptures made of Tut during his youth. We read National Geographic, Google destinations and cook dishes from far off places.
We have discovered that a cheese burger tastes different in Australia than in New Zealand. We have tried Rydge’s carrot, prawn and coconut soup in Sydney and cherry-lavender lemonade at The Common in Melbourne. We have marvelled at the promptness of the double-decker public transport overseas, compared to the smelly, loud diesel trains and buses that never run to schedule here.
We save our coins and even when life eats into our travel funds, we still put what we can aside. We explore in our minds and fantasise about the travel that feels like it will never quite happen. She is always down for a last minute adventure, be it to Wellington or Australia or for a rock climb at the beach a mere 30 minutes from home.
I’m trying. One day. Even if I have wrinkles and she has a degree. Explore everything
Minding my Ps and Qs 